A Series Of Oneshots
by Ariannette
Summary: Pretty self explanatory. I just rather have them all compiled into one big thing, that have indivisual new stories for each one shot. Some will be semi connected I guess? All of Paire Friendship/Canon. Please read and review, I'll give you flowers.
1. The Replacements

**The Replacements**

Despite the fact that she can pretty much come back to life from any kind of death, she's not brave. If anything she's rather cowardly. She's very guarded and afraid of letting anyone completely in. Because if she does, they might find out just how completely twisted and fucked up her mind really is. So she really can't risk being close to anyone, at least-not honestly close.

...

It's the same with him. Despite the fact that he's literally the most powerful person in the world, it never really crosses his mind just what he could possibly do. He could probably go back and change things, so that she'd never find out just who her true father is, and he could just stay in her life and pretend not to know. But that's selfish and Peter Petrelli isn't a selfish person.

...

Nathan's counted. It's been exactly ten months since they've each had a significant other. Well that's how long Claire has been in their lives and he's noticed, but he's heard stories that she did have a few boyfriends before joining them.

It's never really crossed his mind to ask, until it's Valentine's day, and he's about to leave on a romantic dinner with Heidi, and notices Claire in her pajamas, in the living room watching TV, or rather, watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It's not that it's a terribly long time of them each being single, it's just abnormal not to even have a date on Valentine's.

He asks if she has plans, and she smiles and shakes her head. He figures she hasn't really registered what day it is, and decides not to remind her.

As he opens the front door of the mansion, in walks Peter smiling, and frowning at the same time, while holding a huge box of chocolates and roses- it's something he does every year for his sweet and _loving_ mother.

Nathan automatically remembers, and apologizes to his baby brother, stating that their mother isn't there. Due to the fact that Angela Petrelli seems to be dating again, and has flown off to Japan on a "business matter with Kaito Nakamura".

Momentarily, Nathan thinks back to when she told him that, he had rolled his eyes and had been rather amused by his mother's unconvincing lies.

He apologizes to Peter profusely, stating that for the evening it will just be him and Heidi going to dinner, but that he's more than welcome to join them if he pleases.

Peter of course, refuses, and instead is captured by the movie that Claire is watching, and states he'll just stay and join her watching the movie. This pleases Nathan, because atleast they're not alone on a day that no one should be by themselves.

He smiles and he leaves, with Heidi holding on to his arm.

...

The mood is light, and occasionally Claire bites her lip, it's the only thing she can do from covering her eyes and making it obvious that the movie is totally and completely freaking her out.

She turns once and looks at Peter who's eyes are huge. Claire frowns, because she remembers he's the most powerful person on earth and can't imagine why _he'd_ be scared.

She scrunches her nose and frowns, "Don't you have a Valentine?"

Peter turns his head, but his eyes are still intently on the screen and all he mutters is, "Hmm?"

Claire swallows and makes sure to enaunciate every word, "Why are you here? Don't you have a Valentine? It is Valentine's day."

The concentration he has on the TV breaks and he turns to her with a frown on his own face, "No," he states as if it's obvious, then quickly adds, "Don't you though?"

Claire smiles sadly, and let's out a giggle, "Nope."

Peter's frown fades and instead he raises an eyebrow, "You're kidding right? I'm pretty sure there's about ten boys that come asking for you at least once a week," He scoffs and then remembers to add, "-Nathan vents about the constant flowers being dropped off."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, "Yeah, but I don't like any of them. It's hard when you like someone you can't have."

At her confession, his eyes grow huge, "I feel **exactly** the same way. It's like-you can't possibly imagine liking someone else, huh? You just don't feel an attraction for any other person in the world."

Her mouth drops and Claire nods her head, suddenly she's standing on her knees on the couch excitedly, "Exactly! It's just impossible, when you're in love with someone you just can't be with-er...well that's my case."

He laughs and nods his head, "Same with me. You have no idea actually..."

Claire scoffs, "Can't possibly be worse than mine."

"_Try me_."

She inhales deeply, and bites down on her lip, "My-friend. Zach."

It's his turn to wrinkle his nose, and he smiles at her in a peculiar way, "The gay one from Texas?"

"Do you see why it's stupid for me to like him?" She puts out her hand in gesture and nods her head.

Peter can't help it, he starts laughing, and exhales a lot of air as if relieved, "Well...You still have more chances than I do."

"Oh yeah? Who is it you like Mr Peter Petrelli?"

Her light mood makes him feel a little better about the situation and their pointless love for unattainable individuals.

"Remember Simone?"

Claire opens her mouth into an "oh" and nods. Yes, he's pretty much screwed, since she's dead and all.

She sighs and rests her head against the couch, looking at him sadly, "We're pretty fucked, aren't we?"

Her cursing surprises him, but only slightly and he smiles back at her sadly, "Yeah...pretty much."

Both turn their heads back to the screen to finish watching the movie, feeling rather unsettled by the whole situation. Neither knows the other is unsettled though, because they're both liars, and good convincing liars, unlike Angela.

Peter hasn't thought about Simone since the day she died.

Claire thinks the thought of actually being attracted to Zach is quite repulsive.

But neither can say the truth, because the truth is far worse that being attracted to your gay best friend, and your dead ex-girlfriend.

That's why it's just eaiser to use replacements, it's just a lot less complicated. And secretly, they're both relieved that the other isn't as fucked up as they are...but-actually, they both are.

Peter's eyes bulge as the guy with the chainsaw continues to follow Jessica Biel through the meat factory, and thinks to himself, _this happened in texas_? He turns to Claire, who's still biting her lip, and shakes his head, "Saving you at your highschool was my last trip to Texas."


	2. Death Galore

**Death Galore**

When it happens this time she's not shocked, but she is scared, despite the fact that she knows he'll be ok.

She really doesn't understand why he does it, when he knows he'll just heal from it eventually. But she supposes it has to do with the fact that he wants to be with Simone.

After all, he did confess to her how deep his love ran for her, just like hers runs for him.

His eyes are closed, and he lies on the bed with serenity etched on his porcelain features. It's hard for her to imagine him being gone and knows that, if he ever succeeded in any of his suicide attempts, she would find a way to follow him.

Living in a world bared of Peter Petrelli is just no world to live in, it's bland and tasteless, it doesn't hold any desires for her. And she wishes she could tell him that, but he still assumes she's all for Zach. Besides, confessing your lust for your hot uncle is way beyond normal.

So she sighs again, and hears the beeping of the machine next to the bed- she really has the desire to smash it, but figures it's best for Peter if she just leaves it alone.

She doesn't notice when his eyes flutter open, because she's closed hers in an attempt to keep all her illicit feelings under control, and her tears from coming out. But she knows he's awake when the hand enveloped in hers tries to free itself.

Claire's eyes open, and she sees his conflicted face, his saddened expression and defeated frown-he's failed at it again.

"So I guess that's out of the question," He mumbles indifferently.

She's not aware of what she's doing until her fingers are grazing his bangs, and she whispers, "What is?"

Peter seems reluctant to look into her eyes and sighs, "Shooting myself in the head."

Her lip quivers when he says it, but she swallows her fear and asks, "Aren't we enough?"

His eyes meet hers for a fleeting moment, and he looks away, letting the blackness of his mood fill him again, until it's shielding him from the feelings he's trying to suppress deep inside.

"It's more complicated than that, Claire," He whispers, the fear echoing in his voice.

The only thing that complicated is what she feels for him, she thinks to herself.

Everything else has it's own simple explanation. He loves Simone endlessly, even though she's dead- that's simple. He wants to die, to be with her- that's simple. The fact that it means leaving her behind, to him, that's simple and she can see it doesn't really bother him.

But what she feels through and through for him- that's not simple, by any definition. It's up there with Calculus- she doesn't understand either of them, just knows there's a reason behind it.

"You love her as much as I love Zach, don't you?" She asks back, afraid of what his answer will be- even though she's ninety-nine percent sure she knows what the answer is already.

He scoffs, "It doesn't compare."

She has the urge to cry again, because he can't imagine how deep her love for him goes.

But she guesses that, to him, her "love for Zach" seems rather childish- it does to her too.

When Angela storms in, Claire's shoulders slump, her alone time with him is over.

...

It happens again, only this time, he's in the ER room still and they won't let her see him.

They say he walked into a slaughter house, intent on being chopped up.

He'll recover, his wounds will heal, and it'll be as if he had never been scratched in the first place, but she's not sure she will. With every time that he tries to kill himself, her stomach turns into knots, and it rips a tear in her heart.

When the doctor comes out to tell them it's ok to go in, Claire waits this time. She lets everyone go before her and lets them take their time. She has to think of what to say, and gain control of what she wants to say without starting to cry uncontrollably.

After Heidi walks out, she keeps the door open for Claire. But all she can do is stand still and swallow, each time he does it, it gets harder to face him. She doesn't know how long she'll be able to hold her facade-just doesn't know how much longer she'll be able to keep telling him she loves Zach. And wonders to herself that if she told him how she truly felt, if it would make a difference at all.

He's sitting up when she walks in, and has a smile plastered on his face that takes her off guard completely. He points to the seat next to his bed and she takes it, feeling a little like a robot.

"Why are you smiling?" She crosses her arms and takes note of a piece of lint on her black, v-neck sweater, ( a Christmas present from a certain suicidal someone).

His exhaling brings her eyes up to him, and she sees that he's looking at her differently,

"Because I'm leaving."

That moment her heart truly stops, it really does, because if he leaves, then she's lost.

She'll feel blinded, in complete loss of what to do with herself, "What? No, you can't leave."

Peter laughs at her and her childish reaction. He finds it cute, but then let's his smile fade, and looks at her seriously, "I'm making this hard on everyone. None of you deserve this, especially you, Claire."

With a true loss of what to say, she scoffs, "You can't leave us, you can't leave me!"

He giggles again and kisses her forehead sweetly, and so lightly, that it almost feels as if it's just air. Claire closes her eyes, enjoying the touch of his lips on her forehead.

But when she opens them again, he's gone.

* * *

A Big thanks to Ellie for Beta-ing again! :D


	3. An Angel Fell From The Sky

N/A: This piece isn't connected with the previous oneshots :D

An Angel Fell From The Sky

My life had never been interesting- that is, until the day I met Claire Bennet. It was rather unorthodox too, but I guess everything that has to do with us sort of is.

She fell from the sky you see- yes, literally.

It was a hot summer day in Manhattan and I was on my rooftop, bored. Actually, I had gone up there because I had drawn myself on the rooftop with my arms spread. I'd come to the conclusion that I was going to commit suicide. I wasn't happy about it, of course, I mean- who wants to die? Well- except suicidal people, that is. But anyway-

Yeah, I was on the rooftop, completely at ease with the fact that for some unknown reason, I was going to kill myself. And it's not like I could fight it. Everything else I had drawn had become a reality, so why not my suicide?

I sighed, looking down below me. My apartment building was at least thirty stories high- Have I mentioned I'm afraid of heights? Yeah, I know- I was driving myself crazy, wondering why I had to commit suicide this way- or at all for that reason.

And just about when I was going to do it- just when I was about to jump off, was when it happened. First, I heard a shriek, and it quickly turned into yelling- a horrifying yell. But as much as I looked around me, I didn't see anyone. That is, until I looked up and saw where the screaming was coming from.

It was a girl falling rapidly from the sky wearing a white dress. It all happened so fast that I didn't know what to do. One minute, I was looking towards the sky as she kept falling, and the next- she hit the concrete of the rooftop where I was with a loud thud.

For a few seconds, everything was still, and I was even afraid to move- would you want to get closer to a dead girl? No- I wouldn't either. But I still did. I started walking over and noticed a few things all at once.

She was wearing a white dress, she had wings, her wounds were healing, and- she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I was honestly in awe at how amazingly gorgeous she was- she had to be an angel, that was the only explanation.

I wanted to touch her, just to see if she was real and not some mirage that my brain had formed from lack of food or water. My fingers had slowly begun to travel towards her when her eyes snapped open, and I jumped back.

"You're alive," I whispered, a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation.

The girl in front of me rolled her eyes and dusted herself as she stood up. I heard her sigh and whisper, "No shit."

Maybe she was angel that had been thrown out of heaven? Yeah- that made a lot of sense. She did seem like a fallen angel- it actually made perfect sense as it went through my mind. It did explain her crude language.

A scowl formed on her face as she noticed that there were blood stains on her beautiful, white dress, and she muttered, "Stupid West."

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't. I was too scared of the beautiful, fallen angel. Actually, I was afraid that she was going to bite my head off if I said anything to her. Still, I held by breath as I asked, "Are you ok?"

And just as I had imagined, her head snapped up and she looked at me, "Well, does there look like something's wrong?"

My shoulders shrugged unconsciously and I swallowed- yeah, God must have not liked her attitude. That's why he had thrown her out of heaven.

Her expression changed then and she rolled her eyes, sighing but then smiling at me, like it was taking her a lot of effort, "What's your name?"

"Peter."

Her smile grew then, "I'm Claire."

-  
Thank You Ellie For Beta-ing :D


	4. Sex On Fire

**Sex On Fire**

She'd been sneaking around with him for about a month now, or maybe even a little before then. The thing that had made me realize it was the fact that she'd dyed her hair. It was no longer that golden blonde it had once been. It didn't even have the beautiful locks I'd memorized how to wrap my fingers around.

No, her hair was now as straight as the sky was black at night. Her rosy cheeks had become a sort of pale shade, and the glint in her green eyes had faded. They were darker, despite the fact that they had always been a light shade of gray-green.

The nights when she would leave to see him would be when she was wearing all black. She would make sure to tell us she'd be back late and to not wait up. Those nights Nathan would look at me, begging to do something about her change of heart. To bring back the Claire that had brightened up all our days' once with her simple, sad smile.

But I couldn't help. Not when I didn't even know what she truly wanted. Yes, I had asked her countless times what it was that she was after with him. What it was that he gave her that no one else could and why it had to be him. Was it love? She'd laughed at that and had told me the prospect of love was no longer something she looked forward to or even thought about.

She'd told me that loving someone was like killing yourself. Claire was dead inside, and I couldn't do anything to bring her back from that, none of her regenerative abilities would help then.

But the night she had walked down the stairs with her sullen face and dead eyes, I simply could not take it any longer. I let her walk out but I mentally followed her to where she met him. Then, using Claude's invisibility power, I followed after them, making sure to stay silent because, like me, I knew Sylar had super hearing.

I don't know why, but when he hit her across the face it didn't surprise me. It upset me, it angered me to the point where blood boiled inside of me, but I wasn't taken off guard. So I kept watching, and every time he touched her my insides turned into knots and it felt like needles were being stabbed into my heart.

What happened then was what truly took me by surprise. His face slowly started morphing into someone else's as the tissue of his skin rapidly changed and exposed a face that I unfortunately knew better than anyone else's.

My own.

She looked up at him then, as if some of what had been lost had come back. But when he spoke, it didn't sound like me. His voice was the same as mine, but there was a distinctive difference in it, "Is this better? This is why you're here, right?"

Claire's head bowed down and she nodded, ashamed, "Look at me! This is what you're after. This is what you _can't_ have. Because he'd never kiss his niece, let alone fuck her."

I snapped. I really didn't register when I sent a ball of flames towards him and started to attack him. It didn't matter that who I was hurting looked like me, it wasn't me. It was a monster who'd touched my Claire, my niece, and I wouldn't allow that.

It drove me mad that he'd hurt her repeatedly. It made me angry that she'd let herself be touched by him, in order to pretend that I was kissing her. It hurt that I hadn't known.

Ruthlessly, I strangled him, using Ted's ability to burn through his neck as I killed the bastard. I gave him no time to object, or fight back because, truthfully, against me, he really had no chance.

Never, in all the time that I had accumulated powers, had I felt the desire to murder anyone committing a heinous act. I'd never even wanted to kill Sylar before, or my own mother when I'd found out she was willing to let me murder millions of people. All it took was one look of him touching Claire for me to go wild with fury and be filled with a desire to obliterate him.

But it wasn't just a need to protect her that had overtaken my body, it was also a maddening amount of jealousy that went through me. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. All I knew was that Claire was mine, and I couldn't stand to see someone touch her, or hurt her, especially the monster beneath me.

"Don't hurt him!" she screeched, realizing what was happening. I didn't care. I would hurt him, I would destroy him, and any memory she held of him. Never would she remember the face that had brought her so much hurt and taken my Claire away.

When he was dead beneath me, I turned to see her bawling on the floor. She looked fragile and shaken, but I grabbed her by her arms and lifted her towards me, maybe a little too roughly, but I couldn't help it, there was still rage throughout me. And I couldn't help feeling angry at the fact that she had settled for a generic instead of just asking me, just confessing her feelings.

If it was what she wanted, I would give it to her. I would sell my soul to see her smile again, to see the same warmth in her cheeks she'd once had. I brushed my hot hand across her face and murmured breathlessly, "Who is it you want, Claire?"

Tears continued to fall down her pallid complexion and her chin trembled, unable to answer me. She was still too shaken to say anything and closed her eyes to stop the tears from flowing down.

Finally, she looked up at me, and while I couldn't hear her say the words, her lips moved, and I knew she said me. It was me that she had wanted all this time.

The only thing I could really think of doing then was to crush my lips against hers, pushing her harshly against a wall and teleporting both of us back to my apartment.

My skin felt hot and it glowed like that day in Kirby Plaza, because Claire set me on fire. I hadn't known that touching her would bring so much stimulation and desire to me, so much feeling, to the point that it was overwhelming.

When she fell onto my bed, I looked at her, adoringly but with ownership at the same time. Because no one would ever touch my Claire, no one would ever look at her, she was mine alone, and I would kill the bastard that got in the way again.


	5. The Potato

This is dedicated to Ellie, I hope it makes you feel better :D and err- I'm responsible for all the mistakes... No beta this time LOL.

**The Potato**

Peter Petrelli was not a poor man, in fact- he was very rich. So, he really was able to fill his kitchen with a never ending supply of food, but sometimes- he just forgot to go grocery shopping. It wasn't his fault- really, the world just needed to be saved, like- _all the time_.

Sure there were other people with abilities out there, but he was sort of like superman- everyone expected him to do everything- and he didn't mind- he just wished he had enough time to buy food.

On that very day- he'd just gotten back from Louisiana, where the hurricane had hit, and he'd been making sure everyone had evacuated their homes- you know- cause he's nice and stuff.

The whole day Peter had been fantasizing about eating, because he had one potato left in his kitchen. He'd been thinking about all the marvelous things he could do to eat- boil it- bake it- suatee it- fry it. His mind boggled with ideas, and made his mouth water and the very thought of is perfectly oval potato waiting for him at home to be eaten.

Now, Peter wasn't usually a potato person, but on this very day- it was his favorite food in the world. So, it was really shocking when he opened his apartment door to find a certain blonde sitting comfortably on his sofa, eating something out of his paper bowl- he was too afraid to buy real dishes, Peter was sort of clumsy sometimes- er...most of the time.

Claire, grinned at him, "Hello!" Her mouth was still full of food when she grinned- it sort of grossed him out a little, but she was hot at the same time so he shrugged it off.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a potato peeler on the counter of his kitchen, and his heart flopped. Peter, turned back to, Claire instantly, "Claire- what are you eating?"

She took another spoonful from the paper bowl and shoved it into her mouth greedily, "Mashed potato."

Peter couldn't help it, his mouth turned into a small pout, "My potato?"

She nodded scooping the last of it into her mouth, "It was the only one. Geesh Peter, what are you trying to do? Starve yourself?"

Fury ignited into Peter- which was weird, because Claire usually had the opposite affect on him, "Why did you eat my _only_ potato!"

Claire shook, surprised by Peter's outburst, and she stretched her eyes- a bit scared, "I was hungry..."

Peter stomped his foot angrily, "You just don't got and eat someones potato, Claire! That's rude!"

"It was just a potato", she raised her eyebrow, and mumbled.

He didn't calm down though, only breathed in, "But it was **my** potato. My _last_ potato! You can't just take a man's potato! Do you not have any feelings? I will never be the same again!"

Claire bit her lip, trying not to laugh, "I'll buy you a new potato, Peter."

He shook his head and crossed his arms, like a little boy, "No. I don't want another potato- I wanted _that_ one!" He fell onto the couch next to her angrily, and scowled at the TV.

"I'm sorry, Peter-"

"Hmph- sure you are- you potato stealer. I'm telling, Nathan, you know."

She rolled her eyes, and looked at the TV too, at a loss of what to do, "Do you want to go see the Dark Knight? You haven't seen it yet-"

"No."

"Want to go get some hot dogs?"

"No."

"Hey how about we go play a prank on, Mohinder? We haven't done that in a while."

All of a sudden, Peter sprang up from the couch, "No! No! No! I don't want to do _anything_ with you! **_You ate my potato_**!"

Claire blinked, "Want to tie me up in your bed and play with your toys?"

Peter paused- shrugged, and pulled her hand up- pulling her towards his room, "Ok."

* * *

T


	6. Dummy's Guide

**A Dummy's Guide To Figuring Out When Your Brother Is Fucking Your Daughter**

__

By Nathan Petrelli

Nathan chuckled as he loosened the elegant, red satin tie around his neck. After a long night of non-stop drinking and mingling with the high social class and coming to terms with a disturbing truth- Nathan had decided the best thing to do was to help others that were in the same sticky situation as him. It was far too late to fix things for him now- he sniggered again, doubling over on his expensive mahogany desk.

But, with much effort, he sat back up and began to scribble down what he hoped would one day help someone else...

__

...If it just so happens that you find your brother being outrageously jealous and disapproving over your daughter's new boyfriend- your brother could be fucking your daughter.

-If that happens don't encourage your brother's jealousy, tell him to walk her home after school and watch over her- because if you do that, your brother will fuck your daughter.

The whiskey burned going down his throat, but he didn't mind it. After what he'd witnessed that night, he needed as much alcohol as his body could physically take.

He laughed again when he thought about that weekend she had gotten the flu- that _Claire _had gotten the flu, and mentally slapped himself for being an oblivious idiot.

..._If you have an immortal daughter and she just so happens to get sick the weekend your whole family have plans to go hiking, and has to stay home with your brother because he's a nurse and he's going to 'take care of her'- your brother is going fuck your daughter. _

_-If your daughter tells you she's sick when she's immortal- don't believe her. What you do is force her to go on the trip, because if she stays home with your brother- he will fuck your daughter._

As he reached for the glass in front of him, he momentarily looked at the big Plasma Screen in front of him and burst out laughing again- continuing to write sloppily onto the lined piece of paper in front of him.

..._If movie nights have become a ritual between your brother and your daughter every Friday- and it just so happens that she 'accidentally' falls asleep every Friday over at his apartment...they're not sleeping- Your brother is fucking your daughter. _

__

-If you happen to walk outside into your backyard, and your brother is zipping his pants and your daughter's hair looks like a tornado just ran around her- yeah- your brother is fucking your daughter.

When you see that your brother has his eyes closed and is biting his lip- and all of a sudden your daughter's head shoots up- yeah- your brother has probably already fucked your daughter.

Or if you find condoms in your daughter's room, and your brother volunteers to give her the sex talk, while you go do stuff in your office with your political bullshit- your brother probably isn't giving her any sex talk- or talking at all- He's most likely fucking your daughter.

Sadly, he turned the bottle of Maker's Mark over, realizing it was all gone, which reminded him of why he'd gone to his study in the first place. He'd witnessed what would probably haunt him to his death bed and follow him into whatever came after death.

__

- If your brother has your daughter pinned against the cabinets in the laundry room, he's not giving her the Heimlich maneuver- yeah- your brother is, for sure, fucking your daughter.

Nathan's stomach turned and he clapped his hand over his mouth, running instantly to the bathroom. Of course remembering what he'd seen would make him sick again; it would to anybody.

All he'd had to drink that night came out, and after it was all out, he rested his head on the cool marble floor, closing his eyes and trying to imagine anything- but them- in the laundry room- and _oh!_- He was throwing up again.

Something weird happened then- he sneezed and flew back, hitting his head in the corner of the sink, making him instantly black out.

...

When he came to the next morning to find himself in the bathroom, with a throbbing headache- things were just a bit fuzzy, and he couldn't remember what had happened the previous night to make him drink so much.

"Nathan!" Claire's voice hit him like a loud speaker that was right next to his ear- hurting him to the point where tears brimmed in his eyes.

When she passed by the bathroom and saw him, she stopped and giggled, "Do you have a hangover?"

Nathan groaned and rubbed a spot on his head that hurt more than anywhere else, "Yeah."

She shook her head disapprovingly, but shoved a paper in front of him nonetheless, "Can you sign this?"

Nathan squinted at it, "What is it?"

Something about the way she spoke then should have triggered his lost memory of the previous night, but it didn't. Instead he shook it off as being too much coffee or something, "Oh, it's to go on a school trip to Africa- you know- to learn about other countries and stuff..."

There was nothing wrong with that, he guessed, so he signed the paper that she had eagerly shoved at him and handed it back. He then fell back down, hoping to be left alone again in his more than miserable state- but the voice of his younger brother came next, "Nathan!"

Nathan sobbed, wishing he had some other ability where he could mute people, instead of his stupid flying one, "What is it, Peter?"

"Did you hear? I'm volunteering at Claire's school as a chaperone to go to Africa with her class. You know, since I'm a nurse and all, I thought I'd be of service, isn't that good?"

Nathan 'mhmd' him and waved them both off, hoping that they'd leave him alone, and they did. He was alone in on his cool bathroom floor, with nothing but his breathing making a noise.

It didn't too long for him to fall into a deep slumber again. He welcomed it with open arms, wanting nothing more than to leave behind the horrible headache produced from the previous night of frivolous drinking. But instead of entering a serene dream world, he was haunted by visions he dared not watch. Images that scared him, ran through his mind like a horrible, never-ending movie.

He woke up panting, reminding himself that what he'd seen in his dream was not real- that his brother would never- ever- sleep with his daughter.

After a while of just laying there, Nathan made his way back into his study, to at least find a comfortable chair to sit in before going to his bedroom, but something caught his eye on his desk.

The white lined sheet of paper sat innocently on his desk and he, not knowing what it would mean to read it, picked it up. He immediately recognized the writing as his own. It was how he wrote, sloppily, after ingesting too much liquor.

But after reading the first line and letting his eyes scan the rest of the paper, the images that he'd witnessed the night before began to slither their way back into his memory like a snake. Nathan slammed down the paper and looked straight ahead, remembering what they had both told him in the morning.

"Fuck."

* * *

Thank you Ellie, for beta-ing! :D


	7. I Want You

**I Want You**

The song comes on. She's walking down the stairs, and he's waiting. First, it's just a few chords, just the melodic sounds coming from the band- no real lyrics.

It's all very innocent- or so she thinks. So she accepts his hand, as he leads them to where other people are dancing.

It's Heidi's birthday- Nathan has hired a band, to play her favorites- but Claire doesn't know what music Heidi likes- and doesn't anticipate what it all may mean.

But she's in his arms then, her hands are on his shoulders, and his arms wrapped around her waist- semi loosely, and that's it- that's when the song starts...

**_Oh, my baby, baby I love you more than I can tell...  
_**  
It's just a song- that's all, she tells herself. How were they to know what song it would be?

He's just her uncle- She's his niece. Platonic, she tells herself- **Platonic**.

_**I want you so it scares me to death...**_

He looks at her, and the stare scares her- shivers go down her chest. It scares her because, if the lyrics were ever true- the expression he has then, is what she imagines it would look like.

Without her realizing it- her heart beat has doubled, and when electric guitar joins in, followed by the drums, she swallows. But her breath stops with the next lyrics.

**_I woke up and one of us was crying..._**

Claire's mind goes back, to the day at the Petrelli mansion, and to the room next to where they're dancing. She pulled out the piece of glass from the back of his head- she was crying.

_**You can look in my eyes and you can count the ways...**_  
_  
_She can- or at least, if it were a possibilty, she would be able to. His eyes are on her alone- no smile- no frown- just immense intensity- so much, she feels she may drown in it.

_**I want you.**_

His breath hitches- Claire wants to gasp. The once ridiculous impossibilities- now seem to be somewhat true. Before she can fully form the thought of pulling away from him, because it's turning out to be too much- he pulls her in closer to him, but only slightly, so that the only ones who notice are just the two of them.

_**Its the stupid details that my heart is breaking for...**_

Only then- is it, when the small corners of his mouth pull into a smile. His eyes move to her hair, and her mouth- her details.

_**He tossed some tatty compliment your way...**_

She had fallen for a replacement of him before- _West_. But she's never told Peter that- or has he known all this time?

_**And you were fool enough to love it when he said, "I want you."  
**_  
She hadn't had any other option than to relish in the haze and pretend to feel something back for West. Peter was gone at that time- she had not other choice, than to confide in someone else. She had no choice but to be wanted by someone else.

Peter's breath meets her face, and it's warm, and sweet. His face changes again, he breathes in- His eyes search her face.

_**I'm afraid I won't know where to stop...**_

There's something- he's keeping something from her. When she tries to figure it out- he looks away.

His fingers slide around her waist- they pull her closer to him. They're so close that their chests are touching. It's so intimate- she's afraid others will notice, but that thought doesn't seem to be going through his mind.

One of Peter's hands finds its way to her cheek, so that it brushes it lightly- small- feather like caresses.

_**No-one who wants you, could want you more...**_

She should pull away- it might just be her that feels that way. She shouldn't think of them that way. Claire knows it's wrong- it's taboo, but she can't help it- She wants _him_.

_**Every night when I go off to bed and when I wake up  
I want you  
Im going to say it once again til I instill it  
I know Im going to feel this way until you kill it  
**_  
His eyes don't leave her, she breathes in- she breathes out. It's too much- the words are too strong. Its just a song- he doesn't feel that way for her. It has to be her imagination that's concocting some type of lie to her- something so sweet and misleading.

He stands in front of her- beautifully- he's perfect- he's still, he doesn't feel that way. It's just a song. But then, he lowers his lips to her ear- he whispers the taboo words- he says it.

"_I want you_."

* * *

Thanks Ellie for Beta-ing!

N/A: The song is I want you by Elvis Costello. If you go to my livejournal, it's posted with this oneshot.


	8. Falling Away With You

**Falling Away With You**

Just one more time. That's it- he won't go back again.

He just needs to visit her one last time, so that he can remember why he's doing this. It's for her, he tells himself in his head again. All he does is for her- but along the years he derailed from his orginal reason.

She's asleep in her bed. Her blonde locks tease him- they're perfect- she's perfect, she's safe. This is the Claire he wants to remember. This is the Claire that he fell in love with- the Claire he's saving.

His heart has long since been cold, but its only in her presence that he ever feels any warmth inside it. She's the one and only who can make him feel alive again- human, like he'd once been.

Not even the Claire that he has- the Claire that he makes love too can make him feel alive anymore, and it's the same way for her, but he doesn't want that future for the Claire that sleeps in front of him, in her safe bed in Odessa. He doesn't want her to have to suffer like his own Claire-Sandra, Sarah- whatever she feels like going by that week- has suffered.

He can spend eternity in front of her, marveling at her perfection, and wondrous lips that he's memorized. the lips that now let out anything but love- the lips that will never miss him.

Peter doesn't dare touch her. It could be what sets off all the apocalyptic events in their future- and the last thing he wants is to repeat the same future for her. He's trying to save her, not condemn her again.

The first part is done. Sylar will never go to her homecoming dance, and kill Jackie, there will be no need for him. It's the only way- he reminds himself again. It's the only way to save her, from herself-from him, from _them_.

She smiles in her sleep, and Peter has to close his eyes to stop himself from chickening out. It hurts to leave now, it hurts because soon it will be over, without a single goodbye- but he has to do it, he has to save her.

-He leaves. It's the hardest non goodbye he's ever had to do- because he couldn't say goodbye. He wants to cry- laugh bitterly- scream- cry out in frustration. Why is it that they have to be condemned star-crossed lovers?

For a second he lets his hand believe that he'll caress her curls one last time- but she flutters her eyes open, and he leaves.

- He finds himself where he's suppose to be. In his New York apartment and asleep, it's better that way- he won't feel a thing.

Peter makes no noise as he takes out the borrowed samurai sword.

Hiro refused to let him borrow it, but eventually he took it, when he wasn't noticing- besides, it's not like he won't find it eventually. He can't keep the sword- he can't keep anything where he's going.

...This is what it comes down to, what he has to do- to save Claire from the world- to save the world from her. He's the cause of her destruction- he must die.

That's the last thought that travels through him, as he slashes his head off.

* * *

N/A: If you go to my livejournal, this oneshot has a song by Muse attached.


	9. La la da da da

**La la da da da**

They both sat in front of him, completely in giggles and red eyes, whispering to each other as he looked at them. How was it possible that both his daughter and younger brother were completely stoned?

Nathan turned to his mother, "Can you believe this? Both of them? Smoking pot?"

Angela sighed, "Oh, Nathan. I caught you many times."

He scoffed, and crossed his arms, "Well I never influenced younger children into it!"

His mother laughed, and raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the two figures sitting down on the livingroom couch, "Nathan, you _know_ it wasn't Peter's idea."

Nathan sighed and looked at Peter, "You're right."

Still, he cleared his voice, grabbing their attention, and turning his face completely into stone, "Who's idea was it?"

Claire shrugged, which only made Peter double over, and giggle more, "I don't know?"

As much as it was infuriating for him to see them that much, he had to admit he hadn't seen Peter that hysterical- ever. It was quite amusing, yet he wasn't about to tell him that. "Peter?"

Peter slowly sat back up, "Ok-" He took a deep breath, and paused- but then erupted in giggles again.

"Can you two stop? This is completely irresponsible! How did this even start?"

Peter turned over to look at Claire, "Well..."...

__

Earlier

Being a hospice nurse was tough. Peter had to watch people die constantly, and not get attached or cry, and he didn't, but sometimes it was just all too much. It was hard watching people die all the time, then people wondered why it was that he was so emo all the time.

He sighed as he pulled milk out of the frig at the Petrelli mansion. It was just one of those days where he didn't want to go back to his apartment and be all alone.

On those types of days, nothing helped more than talking to Claire. Sure she was just a teenager, but just being around her made him feel better for some reason.

After drinking all his milk, he rushed up the stairs, but stopped abruptly when the smell of something made it's way to his nose. He sniffed a few times trying to figure out what it was- the closest thing he could think of was cigarettes- then again, he'd never been much of a smoker. In fact, he'd always been afraid of putting anything into his body that would jeopardize his health.

As he got closer to Claire's room, he realized that it was indeed smoke, and that it was coming directly from her room. He knocked on her door impatiently, hearing her run around the room, "Claire, are you ok?"

"Shit!" he heard her whisper under her breath, and then mentally think, _'I thought no one was here!'_

Peter frowned, "Claire- open the door."

"One minute!" she yelled, and Peter heard her running around the room, and spray something. Then after was seemed like five minutes of standing against the wall, she opened the door.

Claire had her hands behind her back and was smiling at Peter, biting her lip, "What's up?"

He took a step forward towards her, "What were you doing in there?"

Without realizing it, Claire let out a giggle, and bit down on her lip harder. In fact, she was biting down on her lip so hard, that her lip was white around where she was biting it.

"Um- studying."

Peter peered inside her room, and sniffed again, the stench of the smoke was stronger inside it. He frowned at stretched his eyes at her, "Claire! Were you smoking?"

"Nooo..." She giggled again, and brought both her hands to cover her mouth. It was then that he noticed the redness around her eyes, and the glaze they had.

His mouth hung open, and he barged into her room then, finally realizing exactly what it smelled like- pot. He turned to the window to find an ashtray, and turned back to Claire, who's face had gotten red like a tomato.

It was pretty obvious to him then, "You're completely stoned!"

But his accusation only made Claire giggle more, until she was supporting her arms on her knees, "Yeah."

Almost immediately Peter gasped, and walked forward, putting his hands on her shoulders, "Do you have any idea how bad that is for you?"

Claire rolled her eyes, managing to control herself from laughing, "I'm indestructible, believe me- it doesn't do any permanent damage to me-" Claire stopped, and gasped, smiling more and turning to look at Peter.

But he already knew what she was thinking, and took a few steps back from her, which only made her walk towards him, "No way! I am not smoking pot with you. Absolutely not."

"Come on Peter!"

He shook his head, "No, there's no way you're convincing me to smoke pot with you Claire. No _freaking_ way."

__

Ten Minutes Later

"So I just suck on it?" Peter held the joint in his hand hesitantly, frowning. Claire had put on the song 'Because I got high' in the background, saying it would make the enviroment easier for him.

Claire nodded, "It's just like a cigarette."

He stood still- mumbling, "Well that doesn't help much."

At first, Claire wasn't sure what he meant, but then started laughing, "You've never smoked a cigarette before?"

He shook his head, and Claire couldn't help at laugh, "Just suck on it, it's easy."

Against his better judgment, and the large part of him that was telling him not to do it, Peter brought the joint to his lips and sucked deeply on it.

"Keep it in! Don't exhale yet", Claire made sure to tell him.

But he couldn't help it, after a few seconds, he let it out, and started coughing loudly. His throat felt like it was on fire, and the smoke irritated his throat, not to mention that it made his mouth taste terrible. It was, without a doubt one of the worst feelings in the world, to have the smoke irritate his throat.

Claire giggled in front of him, taking a hit, and passing it back to him, but he shook his head. Peter wasn't going to keep smoking, "Peter, don't be a square."

He gasped, but it only made him cough more, "I am not a square!"

She shrugged, "Seems like it to me."

Peter glared at her, and sucked on the joint again, coughing a little less, "Who'd you get it from anyway?"

"West."

He couldn't help at smile, "Your wannabe superman boyfriend?"

Normally she would have been upset, but she couldn't help it, Claire laughed, and nodded, " He's a stalker too, you know. And one time, he was watching me through the window!"

Peter didn't know why, but for some reason he found that really amusing, and couldn't help at laugh.

"You're high!" Claire pointed dramatically at him. But Peter shook his head, and bit his lip, refusing to believe it,

"Nuh uh!"

Sudden multiple giggles came from Claire, and she nodded her head repeatedly, "You are _so_ stoned!"

Instead of finding her accusation funny though, Peter's stomach dropped, "Oh my God! Am I going to overdose? Am I going to die!?"

Before Claire could answer him, there was a noise at the door. They both looked at each other, scared, "They're here!"

__

Later

"You know you're grounded, right Claire?" Nathan looked at her seriously- not a flick of amusement in his stare.

Peter on the other hand, started to smile, and giggled some more, looking down at his hands.

Angela rolled her eyes, "What's so funny now, Peter?"

He managed to talk in between giggles, "He said she was-grounded- but she can't fly- of course she's grounded!"

Nathan rested both his hands on his temples and closed his eyes, "Oh my god."

Claire's hand shot up, "Hey! West can fly!"

At her side, Peter held up one long finger, and raised his eyebrows, "But he doesn't count, because he's a stalker, remember?"

She nodded again, then smiled mischievously, "Hey Peter? You want to be my wannabe superman boyfriend?"

"Ok-" He giggled, "Do I get to stalk you?"

--

Ok- I've never ever smoked pot, so if the depiction isn't accurate..I'm sorry! But the 'Because I got High' song was on my bf's Ipod I just had to write a crack fic lol


	10. Empty

**this is a continuation of the first two oneshots.**

**

* * *

Empty**

Claire's found a flaw to her ability, or rather her and Peter's ability. But no, it really is hers, he just _borrows _it. Of course, she doesn't plan on telling him what the flaw is. One, because he's gone, who knows where. Two, it's her turn to rebel. And three, Because she fears that if he knows, he will truly use it to die and be with Simone.

It's a very subtle flaw, one that most wouldn't notice. In fact, it's so unnoticeable, that it's quite easy to get away with. But it's also simple- Like Peter's feelings.

She doesn't eat. See, she's figured out, that if she doesn't, her body is weak, it needs fuel to regenerate, and her fuel is food. When she first finds out, she finds it amusing. But now more than ever, it's quite useful, in all her rebellion.

No one says anything because she doesn't eat. It's the last thing they worry about with her. In fact the process of not eating, and it affecting her is so slow, that it takes a month for her to even feel light headed. But at the end of two months, she can start to feel the changes.

For one she's lost ten pounds, and already fits into even smaller jeans than she did before- which is hard to imagine. But also, she feels tired lately. It's like all she ever wants to do is sleep and go to school. There's really not much of a point of doing anything else.

What is there to do anyway? When Peter's gone, and she's left in a monotonous lifestyle of high class cocktail parties and weekends at the Hampton's? Without him, its right near unbearable for her- he's her accomplice- her partner in crime, he's the one constant that's suppose to go through everything with her and help her breathe when everything in the Petrelli mansion becomes claustrophobic.

It's so bad without him, that she thinks she might soon break. She's not strong, she needs his smile, needs to breathe him in again, because he's the one and only who brings sanity to her. The worst thing is that she doesn't know why she needs him so badly, and is absolutely astonished by how important he feels to her now.

It's been three months, and fifteen pounds lost all together, and she wonders if the sorrow and raw emptiness will ever end. She has to stop and think if it's even normal to feel so strongly about someone, the way she does about Peter. It's like she can't function properly. It hurts inside her chest, with a never ending gnawing, and void.

His smile and crinkle that use to form on his right eye is never there for her to see anymore. She can't hear his laugh, or whispered words that he use to say to her alone.

At times, she likes to daydream, and think of what he would say if he was there- if he could see how secluded she has become. She's happy he isn't though, because besides him, there's really no one to bother her. No one notices, that she's truly just the shell of who she was before, and that she's slowly becoming less and less of a being each day.

And while she hopes that he's OK, Claire can't help at wonder whether he feels like she does- she wonders if he feels that emptiness inside too. She's never wished bad things for him, but for the sake of her sanity, she hopes that he misses her at least one-eighth of what she misses him. It's all that can stop her from breaking out in a panic attack.

Claire doesn't cry- ever. It's not like he's gone forever- he's not dead- why should she cry? Besides, she's empty- which means she doesn't have tears. There aren't any smiles, any feelings- no hope- no love, nothing is inside of her-everything is gone and continues to leave as days pass.

Christmas is only a month away, Peter's birthday is twenty-eight days away, but she doubts he'll turn up. He's never been one to make a fuss about his birthday anyway.

Only, he does show up, and a little earlier than expected too.

It's five days before Christmas, and two before his birthday, and when he walks in cheerily from the door- Claire's lightheaded head begins to spin at his sight, she can't help it. He looks wonderful, and tanned- healthy- happy- a totally opposite of what she is.

Seeing him like that- it cracks her further, because just seeing him, she knows that what she'd hoped he'd felt- was all just a false dream.

He stops in front of her, and studies her, she's not sure why. He's quiet and he doesn't speak, but she doesn't care- well she does, but she's not going to admit it.

She looks away, doesn't want to be something for him to stare at, and quite frankly, she's very tired and just wants to close her eyes.

"Claire?" he asks, as if he's not really sure its her.

And maybe it's not really her anymore- because she's pretty sure he took every part of her with him, so that all of what was left of her was just a shell. Yet, she can't help at nod, even if she's facing away.  
"Are you OK?"

Has she ever been? No. But she was better before he left her, and then she feels herself coming back from him, and the tears that follow. She sighs, and shakes her head, "No."

* * *

Note: thanks to Evan, for beta-ing this for me :D I gave Ellie a break lol.

Someone asked me not to continue this, because I might be tempted to and they wanted to speculate what would happen from here on their own. But, I already had intentions of continuing it- it's sort of like a continuous one shot? So i might, or might not continue it, I don't really know?


	11. Accident Plastic Smile

**Accident ****; Plastic Smile**

An accident.

That's what it had been the first time Claire had felt the blow to her cheek.

He hadn't meant to do it**;** she hadn't seen it coming. Only realized what had happened once his hand met her face.

Claire stood back, holding her cheek, knowing whatever bruise he'd left would instantly disappear- with no trace of him ever having hit her.

"Claire," he let out breathlessly, stepping forward and apologizing without stopping, kissing her stoic-shocked face.

Because never in her life would Claire have thought that one day Peter would come to hit her.

….

When he does it for the second time, it's months ahead. After a heated conversation in the garden.

It's her fault, she says, she provokes him. Tests him and his limits to his jealousy. But ever since the absorption of Sylar's power, and the perversion his father showed to him, he's changed.

Something inside Peter has clicked, something that wasn't there before. Or maybe it was, just well hidden. Perhaps a natural Petrelli trait that Claire thought he was free of.

She doesn't know.

….

It's sort of become normal. The hitting. But surprisingly**,** it doesn't bother her as much as it should.

Claire figures its ok, since it doesn't show. There's no trace of the pain he inflicts on her, the emptiness in his eyes afterwards that follow tears and regret.

He's broken**,s**he gets that**.** Sylar's ability has done it, has pushed him into overload- into something he cannot control, and she's the outlet.

….

No one thought the day would come. A flaw, an imperfection, the final blow to show that maybe she isn't as resilient as they think.

He's hit her hard, and she holds her wrist in her other hand, waiting- just waiting for the mending to begin.

But this time, it doesn't.

....

Plastic Smile.

That's what it is now, it's what she shows exteriorly to suppress the darkness that envelopes her insides. It's a thunderstorm that runs throughout her body, but no one sees it.

He hits her, she stays still. He says sorry, he cries, and she smiles. It's ok; she wants him to be ok. She wants him to be fine, she doesn't care about herself anymore. She doesn't live for herself, she lives for him.

The bruising shows, the pain is there, but she smiles. She hides it with concealer, masks her face with lip gloss that hide the lies her happy expressions really bring.


	12. Bittersweet Escape

**This is because, everyone KNOWS it should have been _PETER _who saved her from those Agents and flew her away to mexico...**

**N/A: I dont own Heroes, or Paire, but if i did, they'd get better Ratings than DWTS, because Paire would be together! (sorry, feeling a bit hormonal right now :D Pregnancies suck.)**

**

* * *

**

Bittersweet Escape

_Your free pass is up._

Anxiety runs through Claire as she falls back on to her bed. She knows what the message means- they're on their way for her. She can picture the black vans, driving up her street, and running towards her full men dressed in pure black, with face masks on.

She can almost hear them breaking down her door, and barging in, to put her back in that orange jumpsuit, and drug her into unconsciousness. But as much as all of that frightens her, her mind can't stop thinking about the kiss from Alex.

He's good looking, smart, his smile would make most girls go weak at the knees…yet she her self, doesn't experience that. She wants, more than anything, to feel like a normal 17-year-old, but those feelings of butterflies, or anxiousness never come.

A soft breeze, blows through Claire's window and she turns. She lets a tiny scoff out of her mouth, because she's not sure just what to say. She's missed those bangs, and she's infuriated with him for pushing her away, when she knows he needed her the most. The intricacy in his eyes, wash away whatever upsetting feelings that are surging through her, because that's what the person in front of her is capable of doing.

It's Peter.

He smiles, and she takes notice of his injured arm. She wants to ask _so_ many things. Like how he knew where she was, why he's injured, or why he never checks up on her- but when they hear a loud bang downstairs, Peter grabs her waist, and they fly out the window without a single word.

……….

They're in Mexico.

A run down hotel room with only one queen size bed, is all they can find. Claire can't lie to herself, her heart skips a beat. She wonders if guys know that girls also have one track minds- but will never confess to it. Instead of thinking of a million and a half different things that can happen, she tries to think of the underwater kiss she shared with Alex earlier. It would be prudent and right, but it doesn't distract her enough.

It doesn't help that Peter's taken off his shirt because of the heat.

He pats the bed next to him, and she sits.

"Why did you go for me?" she finally, asks, _and why don't you ever call?_

A bang covers her face and his hand slowly pushes it behind her ear. He doesn't answer back right away, instead he looks at her and smiles delicately, "Do you want some tacos?"

………..

They find a small cantina already filled with a few college students on spring break.

Like in the hotel room, they don't say much. It doesn't exactly bother Claire, but at the same times she's bursting with questions she wants to ask, yet doesn't, in fear that she'll look like some petulant child.

There're differences in him. She can tell he hasn't really smiled in a while, and he carries everything he's been through on his face. It tares a bit in her heart, because every encounter the have- she sees less and less of her hero- the Peter Petrelli she met at homecoming.

"Quince pesos, por favor", says the bartender for the tacos.

Peter takes out his last few dollar, and Claire frowns, "We're out of money?"

He nods and frowns too, looking down at the bill as the guy takes it, "I didn't exactly plan this out well."

It shouldn't be amusing, but it is. And they both can't help at chuckle. It actually releases some of the tension, and Claire hops up from her seat, "I'm going to take a walk. Meet you back at the hotel?"

"Claire- I don't think that's a good idea."

She waves him off though, "Peter, don't worry about it. One hour, and I'll meet you back at the hotel, ok?"

But before he has a chance to object, she's gone.

…………….

When she finally walks through the door, she can see his relief, but he doesn't say anything out loud. She decides not to say anything either, only allows her stomach to do summersaults, because at least he cares.

Feeling excited, she walks over to where he's seated, and drops a few fifties.

"How'd you get this?" Claire can already imagine all the scenarios that are traveling through his head, and decides to have fun with it. She wants to see just how he'll react to her ridiculous and completely faux explanation.

She cocks her head to the side, letting that little sad smile, she knows that gets to him, out, "Well you see, there were these two guys behind the hotel alley. One thing let to another…"

His jaw drops, "That's _not _funny, Claire. What did you really do?"

"I found a pawn shop and sold the necklace my dad gave me. He'll understand."

Peter frowns, and for the first time since he hugged her, to fly out of her bedroom, he touches her. It's a soft delicate caress of her cheek, and though it's not really that much, she enjoys every second of it. A shiver goes through out her, and it just feels so euphoric, that she actually closes her eyes to enjoy it.

There's nothing more that she wants in that second, but to close the small gap between them and _finally_ feel those lips. She's dreamed about it, even thought of his, while kissing Alex.

The wall next to their room starts pounding, and moans become clearly audible, as they hear a noisy mattress start squeaking in the room next to them. They both turn, and frown at each other before Peter gets up. He grabs the fifties on the bed and launches to the door.

"Where are you going?"

He flashes her a quick crooked grin that makes all her blood rush to her heart and as it starts pumping inhumanly fast, he says, "Going to go make it more."

………………

After twenty minutes of useless searching, Claire decides to go back up to their hotel room, and wait for him to come back. But as she passes the cantina, where they ate the tacos earlier, she spots him.

He's sitting on a tall stool, with a small crowd gathered around a table, and there're empty shot glasses through out it. She can see a wad of money in the center of a table, accompanying a nearly empty bottle of Tequila.

Claire groans and walks up to Peter, taking his arm as he finishes his shot, "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

When he breathes on her, it becomes increasingly apparent, that he's had one too many. Yet, he smiles at her, and gives her a questioning look, "We're playing. Last man standing takes all the cash."

"This is stupid Peter! You're going to make yourself sick" She hisses at him angrily. Not that she _is_ angry, its actually a disguise to hide her concern, because she knows just how fragile Peter really is.

But he doesn't seem to notice her disturbance at the situation, and merely winks, "I got this, Claire."

At the other end of the table, the last guy wearing an SDSU t-shirt downs a shot, and winces as his group of friends cheer him on. Peter does the same thing, and, yeah, for a moment she can't help but smile herself.

He looks down at her, and wraps a loose arm around her. But after a few moments, as she looks around the crowd, she suddenly feels a large amount of pressure fall on to her arms.

A loud cheer comes from the college guys' friends, "Well it looks like your boyfriend here, lost."

He's about to take the money- Claire's heart leaps, "Wait! How about a rematch?"

The guy laughs, and slurs as he speaks, "Nice try Barbie, but your boyfriend here passed out, and I've had twenty two shots-"

She smiles, knowing the type of affect it has, and takes Peter's seat, "Then, I guess, I'll have to catch up."

…………….

Feeling a bit smug, with the wad of cash in her pocket, Claire lets Peter fall on to the bed and watches as he turns over on the bed, and looks at her, his eyes huge and bloodshot, "I had it under control, you know."

She rolls her eyes , bending down to help him take his shoes off, "Oh yeah, you totally did. That's why you nearly gave yourself alcohol poisoning, right?"

"Hey! I did! I'm supposed to protect you, Claire." his words slur slightly, as he lets them out, and closes his eyes.

That's it. She lets his foot fall, and stands up, "I can't believe you! Protect me? Peter- you suck as an uncle, you know that? You never call me! You haven't even asked how I'm doing." She can feel her eyes getting hot, "Do you even know my birthday? Do you care?"

She doesn't lie to herself. Because, she hopes more than anything that he'll correct her, and tell her that she's a foolish, crazy girl and that she's the most important thing in his life.

But he doesn't utter a single word. He sits on the bed completely stoic and void of any type of emotion. He opens his eyes and just looks at her, and the way he does- makes her feel naked. It's like he's reading into her soul and reading her every thought. And, even as he looks at her, and searches, her, he never says a word.

Claire shakes her head, and scoffs, trying to suppress the tears wanting to form in her eyes, "I knew it. This was stu-"

As she's in the middle of saying something, he extends his arm and grabs hold of her legs, making her fall down next to him on the bed. He's tall and thin, and looks like he hasn't really had a good meal in a while up close. She can see dark circles around his eyes, and his breath stinks of liquor- but his strength surprises her.

He has his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him, and with any other person, she'd be completely uncomfortable to be that close to, but with Peter- it's just different. He's breathing on her, and his other hand puts her bangs back again. He isn't slurring anymore, but as he speaks to her, his voice is hoarse, "I've never wanted to be your uncle."

She blinks back tears, and wonders if he's getting a kick out wounding her even more than she already is. Does he get some twisted happiness out of her misery? The way he says it with such sincerity, and as if being related to her angers him, is more than obvious.

And then, Claire can't really take it, she tries to shove him off, and get up, but his grip on her is stronger than she thought, and he only pulls her in closer to him. So close, that their noses are nearly brushing. He's frowning and Claire can visibly see the disgust on his face.

"Sometimes, I hate god. I hate how he's tied us. I curse the day I found out I was related to you. It angers me, that you're my brother's daughter, and that I have that connection to you. Sometimes I hate Nathan for being so careless, for fathering you , and making it an issue." He's hissing as he speaks, and doesn't seem to care that there are tears now streaming down Claire's face, "I hate myself for being so stupid and making you feel like I was some type of hero at your homecoming. And sometimes I hate myself, because I know I'm being selfish in feeling what I do, but I can't help it. I can't help at hate myself- for loving you the way I do."

As fast as they traveled down her face, the tears suddenly come to a halt, and Claire frowns at Peter. She blinks rapidly, her heart suddenly feeling immensely different, and trying to comprehend what he's just said, "What?"

He doesn't answer her, but instead inspects every single part of her face, smiling, "It's not that I've wanted to stay away from you, Claire. I've had to- I just- it's to protect you."

"From what? I feel safer when I'm with you", she whispers back, although her breathing isn't back to that parasympathetic stage.

There's a tiny smile growing on his face, and he let's his hand travel from her waist, to the back of her head, "From this", and when he pulls her to himself, and kisses her lips, she feels like for the first time, in a long time, she can finally breathe.

Peter gives her the oxygen she's been lacking, and her mind says- _finally_.

Everything that follows is her own doing, as she turns him on his back, and cups his face, deepening the kiss. She starts trailing kisses from his lips to his throat, as she straddles him. She can feel something hard underneath her, and thrusts her hips down against him, hearing a breathy groan escape from his swollen lips.

She's never gone farther than second base with any guy, but at that moment, she doesn't care. The need to feel his flesh on hers surpasses any logical thinking that's going through her mind. The fact that he's related to her, or that he's older doesn't matter. She doesn't care that he's drunk, and that he might regret it in the morning. If anything, she wants to take the opportunity to molest him, she needs too.

It doesn't matter that she's sounding psychotic, or that it reminds her slightly of Elle. It doesn't even matter that what they're doing is completely incestuous, she just wants to feel his breath on her skin, and kiss him, so that her mind can engrave the memory of his lips on her. Claire knows that it may be their only chance to be alone like this, and she's going to take full advantage of it.

Before she knows it, she's somehow managed to pull off his shirt, and all she's left in is her bra and black boy shorts. She stops kissing him for the briefest moment, and sits up to take her bra off. As she does, she can see a smile growing on his face. He pulls her down and whispers, "You're beautiful."

What Claire wants to say is, '_not like you'_. But there really isn't any room for conversation, all she cares about is really getting him completely bare, because her body can't take it anymore, she needs to see _everything_.

But as she pulls down his boxers, and she feels his hands traveling around the elastic waist band of her boy short, she can sense his impatience as well. She lets him take control, as he tries to pull them down, but fumbles, she doesn't know why, but he's suddenly nervous.

A sense of anxiousness rises to her chest again, and her heartbeat becomes erratic as she feels his hardness beneath her. She can't take it anymore, and plunges her hips down hard, feeling him go inside her.

"Fuck", Peter breathes out, underneath her, his hands roaming to her hips, and helping her thrust as far down as they both can.

His face is a nice shade of pink, something she's never seen before, but decides is her new favorite color on him.

Everything after becomes a combination of rhythmic movement, shallow breathing, moans, and soft cursing. Every single second is like heaven, and hell crashing together to combine a bittersweet escape for the both of them. And when Claire reaches her peak, and he follows behind her, she falls on to his chest, and he kisses her head, knowing it'll never get better than that.

…………..

She doesn't want to open her eyes.

Claire's been awake for more than an hour, and knows Peter's gone to the bathroom and come back. She doesn't dare move, worrying what she'll hear when she opens her eyes, and looks into those remorseful hazel ones of his own.

Yet she doesn't have to, because he wraps his arm around her waist from the back and spoons her. He kisses the back of her neck, and chuckles, "You're birthday is March tenth."

_**The End.**_


	13. Poison Oak

"He's dead." he says over the phone. The messenger says it cold, no emotion in his voice whatsoever. As if loosing his baby brother is the same as a goldfish dying, as if it's some stranger, as if it couldn't matter less, "-hand full of pills."

All the time, Claire tries to steady her breathing. It's not like she'd known Peter for a long time. They'd met once at her homecoming game, the police station, and when she pulled the glass out of his skull. They were all brief meetings, where she hadn't gotten to know him.

So when Nathan hangs up the phone, she doesn't understand why it hurts so much- how something like this can exist. How the potent scared hurting surging through her can all be caused by him. She can picture his bangs, and crooked smile, his kind eyes, all that he'd shared once with her, and it only causes more grief inside of her, it only hurts all the more.

She drops into her bed, and hugs her pillow, willing it to bring some sort of comfort that she knows doesn't exist, because nothing can help or cure what she feels lost and gone with him.

-Nothing ever will.

__________

His funeral is difficult to sit through, and she can't bring herself to go forward and look at him. She knows she has to, before he's buried, she has to see his face before its gone.

But the tears will come and being the only one crying while everyone else feels anger and bitterness towards him. And how anyone can say anything negative about Peter is beyond her understanding.

Sure she'd only met him a hand full of times, all in dangerous situations, but she'd never seen him evoke anything but kindness and caring. He was full of hope and love, and the fact that he'd just end it, its- heartbreaking.

It shocks her, but she gets it. What's going through her, what she feels, its her heart breaking slowly and painfully. It's tearing and aching, and she hates the feeling of it, she hates him for doing it to her.

She waits until the room is nearly empty before she approaches his casket, and every shaky breath that goes through her as she walks slowly towards it, doesn't help to calm her conflicted nerves.

He's pale, not that he wasn't before, its just the death pale look now. His lips aren't pink as they once were, instead they're a dead pale red. He's wearing a black suit, and his hands are at his side, and he just looks, so rigid.

The tears come, but she can't help it. She lets them fall, and doesn't care that they're hitting him. She's angry, because its not fair that he can leave so easily while she has to stay behind- forever.

"I hate you", she says through her gritted teeth, and shaky breath. Claire means it, she hates him for being a coward and leaving her behind.

In her head, she'd had plans of how it would all go. They would get to know each other now that she knew Nathan was her bio dad, they would talk. They would laugh, and have movie nights, and he'd never know about the small inevitable crush she'd always have on him.

At all those thoughts, she can't help at double over, and rest her hands on the railing of the coffin, letting out another hard sob. It doesn't make sense to hurt so much for someone she'd barely known, but its suffocating, and she feels like her world is ending. Like living, isn't worth it anymore, it's dramatic, and if she tells anyone they wont understand, and maybe she doesn't either, but it doesn't matter.

She doesn't want to forget him, or the way that his mouth would form into that crooked smile that she'd never seen before- the smile that would bring butterflies to the pit of her stomach.

Someone moves, and Claire turns back instantly to see who's come back in to pay their respects to Peter, but no one is there. The movement sounds closer, and she hears a gasp, but as to where it's coming from, she doesn't know.

But when she turns back down to get one last look at Peter, his eyes are open. He's blinking rapidly, and forming that small crooked smile on his stilly sleepy looking face, "Why are you crying?"


	14. Just Give Me Tonight

**Ari's Note:** this is unbeta'd so beware!!!!!!!! lol

I miss you guys and hope to be able to write more soon!!!!!!!!! **

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**Just Give Me Tonight**

11.7.09

_Petrelli Mansion_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today was Nathan's funeral, Peter was there…._

The funeral had ended, yet he hadn't left the gravestone.

His eyes had become a permanent state of red, as if they would never change to that lovely hazel color again. His body trembled violently in the thin suit he had on. I'd asked him repeatedly if he wanted his coat, anything- yet he'd only shake his head, unable to mutter anything else, in his stoic state.

Everyone else had decided to go back to the mansion for the reception, and to- talk I guess, I wasn't sure what it was you did exactly at those things, I hadn't ever attended one before. Only Peter and I were left now. I would have gone too, but I couldn't bare to leave him, not when he was like this, not when he was hurting so much. It hurt _me _to see him in pain.

The only thing I could think of was to sit next to him. To just be there I guess, what else could you do, when you r biological father had died, and one of the persons that you cared about most in the world was in physical and emotional torment?

He was vacant in a way. It was as if Nathan had taken Peter's insides with him, and only left a shell of who he had been before. It was really, only until now that I'd realized just how much they'd loved each other, and depended on one another.

He sighed deeply, trying to breath without breaking out in tears again, and I could see just how close he was- just how much his insides were twisted in unbearable pain- I could literally feel every cell of hurt, that he himself felt.

I wanted to hug him, wrap my arms around him, and cradle him, and never let anything ever hurt him again- but I'd never been that close to him- I wasn't sure how he'd react. I felt privileged just to be able to be at his side, and be somewhat of a confidant of pain, for him.

When my hand inched over, to intertwine fingers with him, I was half horrified that I'd actually done it, and half worried that he'd just- shy his hand away from mine. It was more than understandable that he would- yet when he didn't, when his hand stayed in that perfect mold that I had created with both of ours, I kind of let out a small relieving exhale.

He opened his mouth slightly then, but closed it, and slammed his eyes shut, as if afraid he'd just break down again.

"I should have known, " he whispered, his voice uneven.

My other hand instantly went over to caress his bangs, and tears streamed violently down his cheeks. I moved my position, to where I was half sitting in front of him on my knees, and hugged him, "There was no way you could have known, Peter."

He tried to break away from my embrace, but I didn't let him, I struggled, but cupped his face and kissed his forehead. I don't think I was even thinking straight by then either- I just- I don't know- I didn't even know. I simply felt his pain, and ache- and as if the only way that it would subside was by kissing his beautifully pale skin.

For a few minutes he calmed down, and I was able to keep him there, in a semi calmed state- but a noise surprised both of us, and he took the opportunity to get up, and leave me.

It was my turn then, to sit there, and cry.

……………..

I would never be able to explain it correctly I guess, but in no way did I regret kissing him. And really, I hadn't kissed his lips- I'd just kissed his forehead, cheeks…

It was later, and I was in my room, laying down, recounting the earlier events of the day. I felt mildly guilty that what didn't hurt the most was that Nathan was gone- but I couldn't help it that I hadn't ever been as close to him as Peter. He had, in a way, rejected me, while Peter had been exactly what I had needed in such a confusing time in my life. There fore, it was understandable, at least to me, that he was my main concern.

He hadn't gone back to the mansion- I'd looked, relentlessly, but he had been no where to be found. I'd even checked his apartment- only Emma had been there. She'd tried to invite me in for coffee, but for some reason, I couldn't stay.

It wasn't that I didn't like her, she was if anything, great- but, for my own sanity I guess, I couldn't be there, in the same room for with her. Half the time I wanted to be her best friend, and go shopping, while the other half, I just wanted to strangle her, and make her tell me what the secret ingredient to making Peter fall in love with you was.

After that I couldn't go back to the mansion, so I'd gone to the park, in hopes that he'd just show up miraculously and sit by me or something, but of course, that was just wishful thinking- my luck had never been that good.

Closing my eyes, I could see him again, in his pain. Why did he want to isolate himself? Why not be with someone- someone who could understand? Then again, I guess he'd always been that type.

A wind swept through my room, and I curled further, hugging myself. I hadn't thought of getting a blanket- I just- didn't want to do much of anything- I felt completely drained out.

That's when I felt it, well I didn't feel anything- but a presence was obvious- instinctive almost. Because, when I turned around- he stood there, eyeing me, curiously- with his hands shoved inside his pockets.

He was still trembling.

I didn't know how he'd gotten in, nor did I care. What did matter, was that he was there- with me. I realized it had been raining outside, and that he was soaking wet, something that didn't sit so well with me.

I got up on my knees, and sort of pulled him down on to the bed, by his jacket. He didn't object, and that sort of scared me. The Peter I knew, would have put up some type of fight, but this one didn't.

He looked at me, with empty eyes, and lovely pale lips. Before I knew it, his own cold, shaking hand was on my hip, careful to keep the touch- innocent.

"I'm scared things could change. But…I want them to, too."

I played with his bangs, "Don't be."

He closed his eyes, and took my wrists in his hands, "I need you to listen, ok?"

I nodded my head, "ok."

For a few seconds he stayed silent, and focused on his breathing, before opening his eyes and twitching his lip, "If Nathan's death has shown me anything- its that, life is short, Claire. You can't take the things you love the most in the world for granted. But its different for me- and I see it every time I look into your face- I know its there too.

"loving you has been one of the greatest kept secrets of my life. One that I even kept from Nathan, for obvious reasons. I wanted to tell you- just to simply express it in a subtle way, but I couldn't. Because when I see your eyes, its right there, I know how you'd react-"

I wanted to kiss him, show him, that he had no clue. That I truly felt the same, that I had- that ever since that unforgettable day in Odessa, I had been his. But he shook his head, "Please just- don't say it. I know how you feel, Claire. I know it. I've hear your mind screaming it-and I do. I love you with my entire being. It's something that I've had to live with since I met you. When I look at you, sometimes I think that I will never be able to leave your side again- that maybe I could-make it work…but I can't…we can't….for your sake, and mine-"

"Please don't, Peter. Please just- give me tonight?" I knew my voice was cracking, but I couldn't take knowing, that he'd never even give us a chance. He was all I'd ever wanted, all I'd dreamt of.

I pried my wrists free, and cupped his tear-stained face, pulling it to mine, and kissing him. He didn't kiss me back at first, he just sat there, motionless- but it was only seconds before he gave in, and in turn, kissed me back. His kisses were slow at first, but slowly began getting heavier and harder.

The night gradually transformed from kissing, into more. Maybe it was wrong for things to happen that day, maybe it was a little disrespectful to Nathan, but it was all we had- all we could have.

……….

11.8.09

_Petrelli Mansion_

_Dear Diary,_

The sun came through the blinds in the morning, bringing some type of renewed hope in me, that I hadn't had the night before. I prayed that the night with me would be enough to change his mind. To make him see, that something could be worked out.

But he wasn't there, he'd left.

………

11.11.09

_Petrelli Mansion_

_Dear Diary,_

They found his body in his old room, that he grew up in. I guess I'd never know why he did it, why he chose to kill himself instead of loving me in sin.

It hurt. More than any physical pain I'd ever felt before in my life multiplied by a thousand. When your soul mate leaves, its like you leave with him. It's like there's nothing left of you but the body in which you've lived.

I'd never be complete again.

……….

One Week Later

_New York Times_

_With in the week of Junior Senator, Nathan Petrelli's funeral, another tragedy has hit the Petrelli family. Senator Petrelli's younger brother Peter Petrelli and daughter Claire Bennett, both took their lives. Petrelli's younger brother's body was found in his childhood room, in the early morning of Wednesday, November 11. Cause, an overdose of sleeping pills. Bennett's body was found later that evening, cause, gunshot to the back of the head. Story still developing…_


End file.
